


Do It For Yourself

by Wolfcry22



Series: Shame [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive John Winchester, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Tragedy, Dead Mary Winchester, Dean Winchester is Protective of Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester is Sam Winchester's Parent, Drunk Dean Winchester, Emotionally Hurt Dean Winchester, Emotionally Hurt Sam Winchester, Gen, Hospitalization, John Winchester Bashing, John Winchester and Sam Winchester Fight, Protective Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester Takes Care of Dean Winchester, Sick Dean Winchester, Sick John Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:47:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25966099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfcry22/pseuds/Wolfcry22
Summary: After John is rushed to the hospital Sam fights all instinct and comes to visit him. Unfortunately, he finds that nothing has changed (Based on a scene from the TV show Shameless)
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Series: Shame [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1883236
Comments: 2
Kudos: 75





	Do It For Yourself

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another AU shameless Supernatural fic. I just can’t seem to get away from them these days. The parallels are just too great to ignore. This story is going to be a little different with Sam taking on Fiona’s role. This will still be AU, but I feel this one captures Sam’s and Dean’s personalities more for who would be more pissed at John as Frank and another being more enabling. I have always been disappointed that we never got to see the fight between John and Sam before he left for Stanford, so I thought this fic could be one that would lead up to that one. Based on season 3 episode 12 of Shameless.
> 
> Warning for mention of blood/IVs, alcoholism, neglect, language, and possibly triggering themes.

Sam walked down the long corridors of the small inner Chicago hospital. It wasn’t in the nicest part of town and it showed in the decapitated nature of the hospital. Lights were flickering, the smell of bleach was used to disguise nearly every other smell, and the nurses were less than attentive. Sam couldn’t exactly blame them when they received so many patients a day for the same reasons and were constantly on lockdown because of gang activity. If Sam had his way then their father would’ve been taken to another ER, but it hadn’t been his choice. He needed to get to the closest hospital from their motel and it had been this one.

If Sam had his way he would’ve stayed back at the motel to get ready for the surprise birthday he was trying to throw for Dean. They hardly ever celebrated birthdays, especially with their father around, except for a small present of some candy bar at a gas station or maybe a piece of pie from a supermarket. This time Sam wanted it to be good. Dean was turning 21 and since Sam couldn’t drink with him, he wanted to do something that would be at least a little fun.

That was before Dean called him from the hospital slurring his words and then proceeded to vomit other the phone. Sam couldn’t ignore the elephant in the room any longer and decided to pay his father a visit, where Dean most likely was. Why Dean would sound drunk was unclear to Sam. Actually, it was fairly clear, but that didn’t mean that Sam wanted to put two and two together even if it was right in front of his face. Ignorance was bliss, except in the Winchester family.

Sam found John’s room at the end of a dreary hallway. The lights had burned out in the section right before his room, creating an even more depressing scene. With a heavy sigh, Sam headed into John’s room to find his father laying in a hospital bed. His eyes were sunken into his head and had a yellow tint to them. He wore a hospital gown and had IVs shoved into the veins on his hands, pumping fluids directly into his body. He was shoveling chocolate pudding into his mouth with a plastic spoon, flipping through the channels on the tiny TV that was mounted in the corner of the room.

“Hey there,” Sam murmured with a knock at the door, forcing his feet forward.

“Hey, I’m glad you’re here.” John swiped his tongue over his lips while he set the pudding cup aside. “See if you can get me some more of these pudding cups, would you?”

“No, don’t mention food.”

Sam pivoted around and found Dean sitting sprawled in the bathroom connected to John’s hospital room. He was propped up beside the toilet, palm pressed against his forehead where it was clear a headache was sprouting. Dean looked almost as ashen as John was, sweat clinging to his brow and upper lip. From the smell Sam could tell that his brother had been in there a while. He wrinkled his nose in disgust as images flashed through his mind of seeing John the same way after a night of drinking.

“C’mon, Dean, really? It smells like a distillery in here,” Sam complained. He was unable to keep the contempt from his voice as he looked to his brother. He had seen dangerous similarities between his big brother and his father and it freaked him out the same way.

Dean weakly lifted his arms in a meager shrug, top lip curling in pain while his temple throbbed. “I’m celebrating my birthday,” he explained, words still slurred which told Sam that he was still drunk instead of just hungover.

“By getting drunk in the middle of the day with him?” Sam motioned to their father with a flick of his wrist. “Are you an idiot?”

The increased anger in Sam’s voice sent shockwaves of hot pain through Dean’s already pounding head. He leaned forward, swallowing thickly. “Listen, can we save the mommy lecture for tomorrow, please, when my head isn’t pounding so much?”

“Get up, get home, get sober.” Sam scuffed his foot against the ground. Any hope of surprise was thwarted by their life. “I was planning a surprise dinner for you.”

Dean leaned his head back against the cool wall. “It’s not a surprise. I already knew. You can never keep anything from me, Sammy.”

“Just go and get yourself right, Dean. Take the bus. You’re in no condition to drive,” Sam instructed. He so wasn’t in the mood for this.

Dean groaned, reaching behind him to tug on the rails that were placed for those in a wheelchair, hauling himself to his feet. “Ugh, this isn’t going to be fun.”

“Yeah, and take out your surprise ice cream cake from the freezer and start to defrost it.”

“Okay.” Dean took a coupe steps forward, coat trailing on the ground as he passed his brother. His breath reeked of alcohol that also clung to his clothes. Sam was certain that not even a shower would erase the evidence of Dean’s bender.

“Three raw eggs, Worcestershire and a sliver of ginger works every time,” John called after him.

Dean let out a hash gag while he wobbled in the hallway. Sam was about to dart to his side when he saw Dean lean against the damp wall. However, he stopped himself just short when he guessed how pissed his brother would be. Dean felt like he could take care of himself and certainly didn’t need his little brother looking after him. Sam had always thought it best to let Dean protect his ever fragile ego if possible.

“There’s nothing good on. No HBO, no Showtime, just cable.” John flipped through the channels again, barely offering Sam a fleeting glance.

Sam hadn’t known his father to watch much TV, but that may be because when he was home he was usually drinking or researching for another case.

“Did the doctor talk to you,” Sam asked, crossing his arms over his chest and shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

John rolled his eyes. “Yeah, something about the amount I drink or something?”

“Amount?” Sam attempted to keep his calm when he spoke again. “They said that you were really sick.”

John shot Sam a glare as though daring him to keep talking only if he wanted things to escalate. “I took out four werewolves last week in a single hunt. Does that sound like someone who’s on their deathbed? I’m fine. They just don’t know anything here.”

“They said you were throwing up blood,” Sam continued pointedly, eyes flashing in frustration.

“That’s just residual from an injury a couple hunts ago. Let’s see those doctors hunt what we do and see how well they fare,” John flashed.

“Stop joking. This is serious!” Sam couldn’t understand why John wasn’t hearing what he was saying—or the doctors for that matter. This wasn’t something that they could just ignore or brush off. The fact that John was in the hospital should’ve clued him in.

John waved him off, readjusting to push back the small desk away from his bed with a half eaten plate of food on top. “It’s just a scare tactic into getting me to take more tests and bill the insurance.”

“Stolen insurance,” Sam muttered under his breath.

“It doesn’t matter because I’m fine.”

Sam lowered his hands and looked down to see them practically vibrating in agitation. He longed to shake John to force him to understand. “They said if you don’t stop drinking you’re going to die, as in dead, like no longer living, and soon.”

“When did you start to care,” John spat bitterly.

Sam couldn’t speak right away. He needed to formulate his words very carefully. The only shinning beacon for this conversation was that he would be gone soon, hopefully to college. Unfortunately, that meant leaving Dean to care for their father on his own.

“Not sure that I do, but I know that Dean does.” John frowned at the mention of Dean’s name. “I know that he would be devastated if something happened to you and I would never be able to forgive myself if I had to leave him.”

“Dean will be fine. He’s a capable hunter. There’s nothing more that I need to teach him.” John rolled his head around his shoulders, feeling his neck crack from the movement.

Sam was beyond tempted to tell his father that he had dreamed about his death. He had prayed for it a couple times and even wrote a letter to Santa when he still believed. A crushing feeling of shame had settled on him as soon as Sam did, realizing how much John tried to do for them. Then he came back from another bar filthy and drunk and the feeling returned. That was something that Sam was going to keep to himself.

He walked around to the chair beside John’s bed and sat down heavily. 

“So, I’m supposed to stop drinking so that you don’t feel guilty,” John muttered darkly. If Sam had to guess, he was sure that his father was inwardly mocking him.

Sam pursed his lips. “You’re supposed to stop drinking because you have Dean at home who loves you, and I don’t know why.” It was true that John’s eldest still looked to him with awe and wanted to please him. Sam may never understand it, especially because Dean had gone through even more shit with John than Sam had, but who was he to judge it. “Who would be devastated if anything happened to you.”

A fire shown in John’s eyes, which was quickly blinked away and Sam was left wondering if he was just imagining it. He had only seen John like this when it came to a hunt. Anything involving Sam or Dean didn’t seem important nor interesting to the veteran hunter.

“Tragedy will make Dean tougher. He’s too soft, especially when it comes to you.”

It was difficult for Sam to argue that. He knew that Dean had always had a soft spot for him and would do anything to make Sam feel protected and loved. He always cared for him when he was sick, stood up to any bullies that gave Sam a hard time, and even stayed awake with Sam when he had nightmares. It was all the things a father or mother should do for their kids, not their big brother.

“Dean is stronger and tougher than I ever will be. He doesn’t need you to die to accomplish anything.” Sam let out the frustration he felt churning inside him by breathing through his nose. “If you can’t do it for Dean, then be the fabulous narcissist that you are and do it for yourself.”

John’s brown knit together tightly, hand coming up to scratch at his arm. “And what if I don’t want to change?”

Sam leaned back in his seat. “Then I would know what I always feared was true: that you don’t give a shit about either of us.”

Sam rose to his feet from the chair. The tension in the room could be cut with a knife and Sam had felt he spent enough time in his father’s presence to last a couple of weeks at least. He feared that if he stayed any longer he would end up saying something that he really meant and been bottling for years. 

“So, do it for you, do it for your kids, it doesn’t matter.” Sam faced John at the end of his bed, fighting the frustrated sob that welled in his throat. “Do it.” He turned back and stormed out of the room, leaving a more than sullen John in his wake.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed this story too and are staying safe and healthy!


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